


The 13th Christmas

by LittleSixx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - You've Got Mail Fusion, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, POV Hermione Granger, Pining Draco Malfoy, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 22:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17150627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSixx/pseuds/LittleSixx
Summary: Hermione signs up for an anonymous dating service during eighth year, and when she asked her match for "twelve days of Christmas" something may have gotten lost in interpretation.





	The 13th Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DFW Triwizard Fest. Dialogue prompt is included in the second vignette.

Hermione didn’t really want to join a dating service, but Padma was so proud of her eighth-year project and there wasn’t a lot of happiness at Hogwarts. Reminders of the Final Battle lurked around corners in burn marks on walls and the pieces of suits of armor they still found scattered around the castle. Only a dozen students had returned from their class, so Hermione begrudgingly filled out the form for **Alohamare: Unlocking Love**. Padma insisted her method was foolproof so what could be the harm?

Sometime in late November Hermione was paired with “a boy around her age.” That was the entire description she received and she was able to pry no more out of Padma. Everything was filtered through the service before being sent to the recipient. They changed the penmanship, removed any personal references, and made it all but impossible to deduce your own match. There were participants in six different countries, too wide a net to make a decent guess.

“It would ruin everything if I told you,” Padma said. “However, you are the reason I know it works. When I found your match I knew it was exactly the person you were meant for … Even if neither one of you can see it.”

Which was odd, since Hermione didn’t know anyone who could be a match for her, let alone a near-perfect one. They exchanged letters once, the note had been brief, insisting he had been coerced into signing up before asking what she wanted for Christmas. Hermione didn’t have an answer at first. She considered saying another Familiar, but nothing would ever understand her like Crookshanks. It took weeks to form an answer.

“The past year was hell for all of us, and I think we could use more Christmas. Perhaps twelve days of Christmas would do it. My heart is so heavy I just want something light and sweet.”

She didn’t hear back until Christmas when an owl knocked on her parents’ window. She took the package and read the note as the owl flew away.

 

> “I cannot give you twelve days of actual Christmas, so I hope this will do.”

Hermione opened the package to reveal twelve tree-shaped biscuits, each with a tiny bird made from frosting on one of the branches. She took a bite and smiled because they were delicious. For the first time in years, Hermione wasn’t scared of thinking about the future.

**.oOo.**

1999

They exchanged letters throughout the year, neither one inclined to reveal their identity.  Hermione graduated in June and immediately began work in the Office of International Magical Cooperation with, of all people, Pansy Parkinson. (Hermione once quipped to Ron that Pansy was, in fact, the least cooperative person on the planet.) They shared a cramped, dimly-lit office in the backmost corner and by the time December rolled around Hermine had seriously contemplated homicide on at least three occasions.

Pansy’s mouth fell open when Hermione received her Christmas package. She stared at the red envelope for a long while before asking,

“Is that from **Alohamare**?”

“How did you know?” Hermione asked. “My match has been nothing but kind and thoughtful so far.”

“Maybe it isn’t as awful as I thought,” Pansy conceded, her eyes still trained on Hermione’s unopened gift like she knew what was inside. Hermione lifted the note from the top of the box.

 

> “You did not tell me what you wanted this year, so I took a guess. Let me know how I did.”

Hermione opened the box and grimaced. She reached inside to pull out a silver cage holding two white turtledoves, cooing lovingly beside each other.

“He’s gone mental,” Hermione said. She delicately placed the cage on their lone spare chair.

“You did tell him to get creative,” Pansy replied. She folded her arms and struggled to keep her cackling to herself.

“When I said I wanted twelve days of Christmas, I didn’t mean literally!” Hermione shouted.

“Two down … Ten to go!” Pansy lost control and doubled-over in laughter. Hermione wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of admitting disappointment. But then she noticed another note on the back of the cage.

 

> “I only wish I could have been there to see your face. Open the cage and set them free. I promise you will not regret it.”

Hermione had been burned by her curiosity too many times to remember but it did not stop her from opening the cage’s tiny door. The turtledoves looked toward her, as though they had been waiting for this moment. They flew out of the cage and Hermione’s first thought was whether they would leave droppings on the floor.

She need not have worried. They flew around the room once, twice, then shot straight up toward the ceiling. Instead of exploding into a storm of feathers, they transformed into fist-sized balls of light. The dim office was suddenly illuminated with natural light. Hermione smiled and looked down at the note in her hands. She had mentioned the lack of light in her office to him in passing months earlier.

“I can’t believe he remembered.”

**.oOo.**

2000

Hermione started a new relationship with Ron in July. It was nice. Ron was familiar, his family was her family, and he was comfortable. Everything else in her life was a giant question mark and coming home to Ron was definitive. Not exciting, just stable.

It would be a lie if Hermione said she wasn’t curious about her mystery suitor. She made sure to only open his letters if Ron was out. They wrote even more frequently, and he had begun dating as well. She was ashamed at how gutted she was by that revelation, but their friendship persisted. It should not have been surprising since **Alohamare** had a wonderful reputation. Padma had expanded to more than a dozen countries and already had seven marriages to her credit.

Hermione received her package the morning after Christmas. It was the heaviest yet and her immediate impression was that it smelled heavenly. Hermione opened it to reveal three plates, each topped with a fully-plated hen. She grabbed the note and wondered briefly when they would finally get to see each other’s penmanship. Was his handwriting blocked or loopy? Tight characters squished together or clearly-separated letters?

> “As is our tradition, I sent you three French hens. Actually, they’re Cornish hens, but when you taste them I do not believe you will mind the technicality. Happy eating and happy Christmas.”

Which is how Harry, Ron, and Hermione ended up in her flat eating Cornish chicken. They were on the floor in front of her fireplace and she was remined of several nights spent just the same in the Gryffindor common room. Hermione admitted her **Alohamare** “friend” had sent them. Ron didn’t seem to care much since Hermione insisted they were nothing but friends and he’d gotten free chicken. Harry, however, was skeptical.

“Has either one of you ever said this can’t be something more?”

**.oOo.**

2001

Ron told Hermione he loved her on Valentine’s Day. Hermione smiled but didn’t say it back. She said it later, sure, and for the most part it felt true. As the year wore on and the **Alohamare** letters kept coming, Hermione found herself worried every time she opened a red envelope the words “let’s end this” would be there in bolded letters.

But they didn’t end it. Quite the opposite, as Hermione’s letters became more personal. She mentioned her nightmares and the fear they would never go away. She wrote about her inability to balance work and her boyfriend, to which he responded, “He must be a complete git to guilt you about pursuing your dream of making the world a better place.” She laughed because that sounded so much like something Draco Malfoy would say. Was her match one of Malfoy’s friends? Merlin, that would be hilarious.

In her next letter she mentioned that she was Muggle-born. The letters stopped coming for a bit after that. Nothing in July. Nothing in August. And she lost all hope of hearing from him again until an owl arrived on September 19th. He said it didn’t matter. Hermione was beyond relieved, she was ecstatic. Her reply was all she thought about while blowing out her birthday candles.

Christmas came and her packages arrived that morning. Four of them, in fact. Four owls flew into her kitchen and dropped identical cylindrical parcels on her table. The largest was an old eagle owl that looked familiar, but Hermione couldn’t quite place it. She untied the letter from its leg and the owls took that as their cue to leave. She opened the letter after shutting the window behind them.

 

> “Four birds for you this year. I will be so fucking happy to be done with birds. My friend helped me make these gifts. I couldn’t figure out what to get you, but that challenge these past four Christmases has meant a lot to me. With that thought, I decided to give you something you cannot get anywhere else. Your letters always make me smile and I hope life is kinder to both of us in the new year.”

Hermione tore off the paper to reveal four milky-white candles. She lit one with the wave of her hand and waited for the scent to fill the room. The candle smelled like worn parchment, ink, and … Christmas biscuits? Ron walked in a few minutes later and asked why the kitchen smelled like Hermione’s perfume.

She stared in awe, realizing she was in possession of four Amortentia candles.

**.oOo.**

2002

Hermione hid them away. She loved Ron. He was her boyfriend and she loved him. She didn’t write back for months. It ate away at her, but the promise of something better wasn’t worth more than Ron. He was good. They were a good match.

But not her perfect one.

Hermione caved at the beginning of April. It was a rainy day when she scribbled a note to him in her office, thanking him for the gifts. She didn’t say much, only that she was due for a promotion. He didn’t respond for months. His next letter was an engagement announcement. She responded with half-hearted congratulations and tried to focus on Ron. That was where her heart should have been all along.

She got nothing from him until Christmas morning. There was only one owl that year, the same old eagle owl. It had a letter clutched in its talons and a small pouch tied to one leg. Hermione pulled the drawstring and dumped five gold rings onto the table. Her stomach twisted itself into a knot at the lack of creativity. She supposed there wasn’t much reason for him to impress her any longer. Hermione reluctantly took the letter from the owl’s leg.

 

> “I hope you like puzzles. Perhaps one day we will share our names, but for now I like not knowing who you are. In a strange way, I have learned most of what I need to know about you. You are intelligent, sarcastic, and confused about what you truly want in life. I wish I could say differently for myself, but it would be a lie. The thought of you constantly overpowers my reality. The love I have now is nice; the love I have now is easy. However, I wonder whether I am losing out on something even better.
> 
> As for your gift, I will give you only one hint: corners.”

Corners? She looked down at the five circular rings. She stared at them for a few minutes, muttering to herself.

“Five circles and no corners. How do you give circles corners?” She smiled and laughed, realizing she had thought about it the wrong way. “You make corners out of the circles.”

Hermione made a square on the table, with each of the four rings at a corner. She took the remaining golden band and placed it in the middle of the square. Immediately, the rings began to shake. They quivered and levitated several centimetres off the table, all save for the one in the centre. The rings slowly floated toward each other and converged right overtop of that one gold band. There was a bright flash of golden light, a puff of smoke, and when Hermione waved it away there were two gold dragons sitting on the table next to that one golden ring. She used the dragons as bookends on her shelf and put the gold ring in her jewelry box, praying Ron would never see it.

**.oOo.**

2003

Hermione was promoted to head of the Office of International Magical Cooperation in February. Life was good. Ron had worked his way up to Head of British Quidditch HQ and they had a nice life together. Harry and Ginny were expecting their first child, and it made Hermione very conscious of the fact that she was not ready for any such commitment. She told her **Alohamare** match as much.

He had laughed. Hermione had no way of knowing that, but she was fairly confident he had laughed at her because he asked, “Your boyfriend has no clue what you really want, does he?” That really was just like him, so negative about her relationship to Ron. Draco Malfoy would be proud. However, shame settled into Hermione’s chest when she realized there was truth in his assumption.

Christmas came and six geese lined up outside Hermione’s front door that morning. They each laid one egg then flew away. Hermione stared at them, not sure what to do. She cursed his love of puzzles before deciding to crack open the eggs and hope for the best.

The first shell fell easily to pieces, revealing a small piece of parchment inside. The next, then the next, and eventually all six contained similar pieces of parchment with different messages. Together, they read:

 

> Do you wonder whether we will ever meet?
> 
> Reading your letters brings me more joy than I care to admit, certainly more joy than I will tell my fiancée.
> 
> After five years and six Christmases, I consider you a friend and hope that life continues to give you what you deserve.
> 
> Can I ask you to do me one favour? I know you do not owe it to me, but between friends …
> 
> Overlooking the fact that we have never met, please promise me you will never sacrifice your ambition.
> 
> Make your life what you want it to be, not what you believe people expect of you.

Hermione scribbled her reply while Ron was fiddling with the radio.

_I promise._

**.oOo.**

2004

Hermione’s **Alohamare** match wrote in March that his engagement was over. He never revealed whether he ended it, but Hermione was elated by the news. There remained a small chance one day they could be something more.

The following October, after one long day in the office, Hermione walked home to that familiar smell: parchment, ink, and Christmas biscuits. Ron was sitting in one of the chairs at the kitchen table when she came in, and Hermione nearly fainted at the sight of an open ring box on the table. There was something sparkling inside and Hermione couldn’t bear to look at it. Ron laughed sardonically.

“Don’t worry, ‘Mione, I’m not proposing,” he said. Hermione was ashamed by the relief she felt at hearing those words. “The candle is nice, you know. I always wondered why he kept sending you letters, sending you presents. You think I didn’t notice you sneaking off to write him back, ‘Mione? I may be unobservant sometimes but I’m not an idiot. That gold ring in your jewelry box, that’s from him, too, isn’t it?”

“Ron, no—I am with you. I have never—”

“But you want to, don’t you?” he asked. Hermione grit her teeth together and couldn’t bring herself to lie, so she nodded. Ron chuckled darkly. “Yeah, I should be angry, but you know what? This candle doesn’t smell like you anymore.”

_Oh._

“You smell him, don’t you?” Ron asked. Hermione nodded rather stiffly. “I love you, ‘Mione, but I love someone else more. And you love the idea of someone else more than the reality of me, I think.”

“I want to make this work, Ron,” Hermione insisted, but he saw right through it.

“No you don’t, ‘Mione! Don’t lie to me. You don’t write to another man for five years if you want to make it work. The only reason you don’t know who he is, is that you’re afraid of what he will think of you. I worship the bloody ground you walk on, but will he love you that much? Could he? Could you ever love him? You don’t know, but I know I can’t be second-best.”

So he moved out the next day. Hermione cried so much that her next letter had tearstains running through the ink. Her match responded immediately with a bottle of Firewhisky.

That Christmas, her gift was seven swan-shaped biscuits with creamy vanilla frosting. The accompanying note made Hermione smile.

> “Now that we are both single, I believe it is time for us to start over. Forgive me for repeating a gift, but it seems like you could use some sweets right now. Happy Christmas.”

**.oOo.**

2005

Hermione was in love with him. The Amortentia confirmed it, but she was finally comfortable enough to admit it to herself. However, she wasn’t comfortable enough to meet him. Without Ron, the IMC was taking over her life. She found peace in solving the world’s problems since that took her focus away from the problems in her own life. Ron was engaged in June to a girl two years below them at Hogwarts. A former Ravenclaw Quidditch player and a teammate of Ginny’s on the Holyhead Harpies.

Ron was happy.

Harry was happy.

And Hermione was happiest when those familiar **Alohamare** envelopes showed up at her window. She shouldn’t have been so dependent on them, but she couldn’t pull herself out of it. The promise of him was greater than anyone else could be, and Hermione didn’t want to ruin it. She didn’t want to meet him because … Because what if he wasn’t enough? What if she had wasted all this time idealizing someone who wasn’t real?

Christmas came and there wasn’t a package this year. When the owl knocked on her window that morning, Hermione took the letter from its talons. She ripped it open with far too much enthusiasm and ended up tearing the envelope.

 

> “I desperately wish I could see the look of disappointment on your face. Somehow I know every time you don’t see a package you think I have decided to discontinue our tradition. Quite the opposite, but this year I needed help from a friend. Tomorrow, go to Fortescue’s and tell the lady behind the counter you would like eight maids a milking. Not to tip my hand, but this is my favourite gift yet. Happy Christmas and I hope to meet you one day soon.”

_I hope to meet you one day soon._

Naturally, Hermione was at Fortescue’s when they opened at eleven o’clock on December 26th. She was alone in the shop until Tracey Davis appeared from one of the rooms in the back.

“What can I get you this morning?” she asked, exhaustion evident in her tone.

“I, um …” Hermione steeled herself against the impending humiliation and said, “I need eight maids a milking.”

Tracey Davis looked up at her and said, “Sorry?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and repeated, “Eight maids a milking? I was told to come—”

“No fucking way!” Tracey burst into laughter. “Oh my God, all this time he’s been wondering and it’s Hermione Granger. Perhaps this **Alohamare** business isn’t such a crock after all.”

“You know who my match is,” Hermione said. “Please, can you tell me? I, um, I don’t … I’m scared to meet him. It’s been seven years now and I thought we would lose contact, but something about him—”

“I am sworn to secrecy,” Tracey said, the smile never leaving her face. “On both ends, so don’t worry I won’t be telling him it’s you. He wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

“Can you at least tell me something about him?” Hermione begged. “Anything.”

Tracey thought about it for a moment. She returned to one of the back rooms and came out with a large, nondescript box in her arms.

“I can say that he isn’t the boy he was when he wrote you the first time,” Tracey said. “He’s thoughtful and has a wicked sense of humour, but you already knew that.”

“Does he …” Hermione paused, wondering whether Tracey Davis was the sort of person to trust with so much information. But she was the only link Hermione had to her match. “Does he talk about me?”

“More than I’d like,” Tracey quipped. “But he struggled with what to get you this year. Agonized over it, really. So,” she placed the box on one of the tables and motioned for Hermione to follow her over. “Open it.”

Inside the box, Hermione found eight individual pints of ice cream. She laughed.

“Please tell him he was right, it’s his best gift yet.”

“There’s eight different flavours in there—his favourites. He loves ice cream, says it reminds him of being a kid and what it was like before everything …”

“Happened,” Hermione finished with a sigh. Tracey nodded.

“Butterbeer, vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry are the ones he comes in here for most often. The chestnut flavour was a Christmas special. He likes coffee ice cream on long winter days and saves mango ice cream for the bad days. And, of course, as a Christmas present to round out the list, one pint of peppermint.”

**.oOo.**

2006

It was a step closer to him and that was all Hermione needed. She thanked him for the ice cream and admitted to downing the pint of strawberry in one sitting. He wrote back the next day, and their letters continued like that for months, hardly a day passing without either receiving or writing a letter. That meant he was in England. Had Hermione seen him? Did she know him? Clearly Tracey Davis did, so perhaps he had gone to Hogwarts.

But nearly everyone in their year had paired off, same for the two above and below. Hermione begged Padma for a clue but she still refused, citing **Alohamare** ’s strict confidentiality policy. It was the top wizarding dating service in the world and had improved beyond letters. In fact, Hermione and her match were the only pair who still sent each other letters.

Harry and Ron were concerned. They pushed her to meet her match soon rather than waste more time hoping something would come of it. But Hermione wasn’t ready.

Her gift came on December 23rd. There was no letter. The red envelope contained only a ticket to a performance of _The Nutcracker_ in London on Christmas Eve. So she went, dressed in her best dress, hoping against all hope he would be there and he would be everything Hermione needed him to be. She took the second seat in from the aisle and waited.

And waited.

Until the last person in the world she expected to see plopped into the seat next to her.

“Evening, Granger.”

Hermione grit her teeth and stared straight ahead.

“Malfoy. I don’t believe that is your seat.”

“Expecting someone, are you?” he asked. He turned to look up the aisle and said, “I’ll just stay until your friend gets here.”

“Not a friend,” Hermione hissed. “And if he were to see me here with you—”

“A date then?” he teased. “No wonder you look so nice. I almost failed to recognize you without the mess of curls sprouting from your head.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “What are you doing here?”

“I quite like the ballet,” Malfoy said with a shrug. “Not much else for me to do on Christmas.” There was a bitterness in his tone, and some uncertainty. Hermione couldn’t figure out what he meant, or whether it was even something she was supposed to know.

The curtain opened, the lights dimmed, and Hermione’s heart sank. Instead of her **Alohamare** match in the seat on her right, it was Draco bloody Malfoy. She thought that her match may arrive at intermission, but no such luck. When the curtains opened again Hermione laughed. Draco asked why and she said,

“There are nine ladies dancing.”

It wasn’t all bad. Malfoy was quite the conversationalist and even made her laugh once or twice. But at the end, she was still left wondering about her match and why he hadn’t shown up. She wrote to him as much and all she received in return was,

 

> “I am very sorry I couldn’t be there, and that your experience was unpleasant. It was never my intention and had I known you would be hurt in any way, I never would have prompted you to go. Please forgive me.”

**.oOo.**

2007

Hermione saw Draco Malfoy a few times over the next year. When there was something he wished to do and didn’t want to do it alone, he invited her along. They went to another ballet. They bar hopped in Wizarding Paris and even went to the Quidditch World Cup together. That caused quite a stir in _Witch Weekly_ , but neither of them paid it much mind. Draco was a friend she could fight with and it was freeing.

He did not seem to have much of an opinion on her **Alohamare** match. Malfoy said he was shocked she hadn’t somehow forced the man to reveal himself or deduced it of her own volition. Hermione admitted she was afraid, and that keeping him distant was the easiest thing to do. Malfoy understood.

In fact, they spent Christmas together at Hermione’s house. It wasn’t planned, but Harry and Ron were doing separate things with their families and Hermione just … She didn’t have anyone else she wanted to spend the day with. They baked biscuits and ate Christmas dinner on her sofa. Malfoy’s biscuits were both tasty and familiar. Hermione swore she had tasted those biscuits before, but Draco insisted it was his grandmother’s recipe and moved on to other conversation.

An owl arrived with a familiar red envelope and a small box tied to its leg. Hermione took both and shut the window as the owl flew away.

“Is that from him?” Draco asked. Hermione nodded, opened the letter, and read it aloud.

 

> “This year was tricky, but I know you like sweets. One day I promise to deliver you biscuits in person. Whomever you spend Christmas with this year, I hope they are good company. Happy Christmas!”

“I am definitely good company,” Draco quipped. Hermione chuckled and opened the box. Out popped five small men made out of what appeared to be stardust, each no more than twenty centimetres tall. They carried a candy cane on their shoulders and presented it to Hermione. Five more popped out of the box and offered a candy cane to Draco before they all leapt back into the box and disappeared.

“Ten lords a-leaping?” Hermione asked. Draco had already unwrapped his candy cane and caught it between his teeth.

“I duh-no who he ish, but ah like him a lot,” he mumbled. He sucked on the end and it was positively obscene. He took the candy cane from between his lips with a soft popping noise and waved it toward the box. “He is a very considerate gift-giver. Making sure your guest is not left out.”

“How could he know I would have a guest?” Hermione asked. “And why would I only have one? Perhaps I was throwing a party.”

Draco looked down at the floor and sighed.

“Perhaps the answers you are looking for are right in front of you.”

**.oOo.**

2008

It was June before Hermione realized Draco was on to something. Her letters to her **Alohamare** match were less frequent, sent every week instead of every day, but her attraction to him only grew. His letters made her laugh. She was selected to be England’s delegate to the International Confederation of Wizards. With even less time for herself, she needed to laugh more than ever.

But Draco Malfoy made her laugh just as much. Harry and Ron were skeptical of their friendship and Ron was openly hostile much of the time. However, she still loved them both and Draco was a good friend. The more time she spent with him, the more she realized he had changed into someone she might call more than a friend. In fact, if she was not so set on her **Alohamare** match, Malfoy might have been a great love.

But those red letters kept coming.

Malfoy brought her books from his library. Some he thought she would like and others that she requested. He stopped insulting her hair and when he tried out a beard Hermione crushed his hopes as any good friend would. (It wasn’t a good idea to cover up his cheekbones.) It was August before Hermione realized she was physically attracted to Draco, too. It was awful, horrible, and downright humiliating. Being in the same room was difficult because she had to concentrate on not glancing down at his bum.

Christmas came and she received another ticket. Draco hovered over her shoulder as she opened the letter.

 

> “Maybe this is the year. I am ready, but are you? I’ll be here, and maybe we will find each other this time. Happy Christmas.”

She turned the ticket over in her hands, hoping for some sort of clue or anything that would help Hermione find him. But it was nothing more than a ticket to a Weird Sisters concert on New Year’s Eve.

Draco offered to accompany her since he, too, had a ticket to the show. There were a lot of their schoolmates at the show, more than a few of them staring at Draco and Hermione when they arrived. They stayed toward the back when the Weird Sisters came on, bagpipes and all. As 2008 arrived, they played “This Is the Night.” Hermione anxiously looked around, hoping for a blinking sign or something reading, “HERMIONE GRANGER IS HOPELESSLY IN LOVE WITH ME,” but all she saw was Draco Malfoy.

“Wait, Draco, how many songs did they play?” Hermione asked.

The corner of Draco’s mouth ticked up when he said, “Eleven.” Hermione laughed. Her match was certainly inventive.

"One piper piping eleven times."

The countdown began and Hermione was frustrated. She’d lost her match again! Why was everything a puzzle to him? There were so many things she could have if the promise of something better wasn’t constantly dangled in front of her.

5 …

4 …

3 …

2 …

1 …

Hermione wrapped her hand around the nape of Draco’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Her heart expanded so much it felt like it was pressing against everything else in her ribcage. Draco wasted no time, wrapping his hands around her waist and pulling her closer. His lips were soft, then his hand was caressing her cheek and she opened her lips the slightest bit to allow his tongue entry. Merlin, she never realized how badly she wanted this. Draco couldn’t touch enough of her, pulling back only the slightest moment to breathe before snogging Hermione again and trailing his fingers down her spine. Hermione shivered at the touch, the fabric of her shirt doing little to quell the need she had for his touch to move even lower …

“No one saw that,” Hermione said, pushing him away. She glanced around to confirm her suspicions, everyone absorbed in their own moments unconcerned with the two of them. “We could pretend it never happened.”

Draco bit his lower lip like he still couldn’t believe what they had done. He was a little starry-eyed and licked the taste of Hermione from his lips before he answered.

“If that is what you want,” he conceded. There was pain in his voice and Hermione hated herself for hurting him. She never should have done it, but curiosity had always been her weakness.

“I think it is what’s best,” Hermione countered.

**.oOo.**

2009

The letters stopped. Hermione wrote to him a dozen times, the first of every month. Malfoy stopped coming to see her as well. Hermione threw herself into work again, and she loved it. That was, until work required the services of Draco Malfoy.

He walked into her office on December 2nd, and stared at her until she wanted to hide beneath her desk.

“If I had known I would be working with you I would have declined,” Draco admitted.

“It’s nice to see you, too,” Hermione quipped.

“You do not get to be upset about this!” Draco shouted. “You kissed me, Hermione!”

“And you were rather enthusiastic in your reciprocation, as I recall,” she replied, fingers fisted at her side.

“Yes, I was! Because I like you, Hermione. Then you decided to pretend it never happened. Why? Because you are ashamed of me or because it feels like you are cheating on someone you have never even met?!”

“Do not bring him into this!” Hermione shouted. “I let you into that part of my life because I trusted you—”

“And I trusted that when you kissed me, you did it because you wanted to. But you only did it because you were curious and you wanted to know what it felt like! If you are through shitting on my pride I will provide assistance as requested.”

He did that and nothing more. He couldn’t escape Hermione’s presence quickly enough. She looked at the gold dragon on her bookshelf and saw red. She hurled it at the wall in a fit of rage, hoping it would make her feel better, but it clunked uselessly to the ground.

Christmas came.

Christmas went.

No word from Malfoy or her **Alohamare** match. No red envelopes and no Christmas biscuits. She spent Christmas alone and cried for all she had lost. Because not only had she thrown away her friendship with Draco, she lost the thought of something more. All for what? For a man who had done nothing but string her along for eleven years.

But his letter came on January 1st.

> “This is the year we meet. Flourish and Blotts has a blue Christmas tree tucked away in the Ancient Runes section each year. Meet me there at 3 o’clock on Christmas Eve.”

**.oOo.**

2010

Hermione spent the year looking forward to her date. She ran into Malfoy in February and they spent Valentine’s alone together. They spent the Easter holiday together, eating far too much chocolate. Her parents would be ashamed. Hermione and Draco fell back into their friendship like they’d never left each other. They shared Firewhisky after a particularly rough day at work. They laughed at the articles about them in _Witch Weekly_ and Draco slept over a couple nights every week just to get away from the manor. Or so he said.

December rolled around and Hermione told him about the letter. She hadn’t received any word from her **Alohamare** match and thought perhaps he had forgotten. Draco said,

“I promise you, Hermione, if he has kept you in his thoughts all these years there is no possibility he would forget even the slightest chance at meeting you.”

And that was Hermione’s problem. Draco always said such nice things. He had grown up into someone likable. Into someone very, very kissable. On December 23rd, Draco leaned across the table and asked Hermione,

“If you didn’t have an **Alohamare** match waiting and we had just become friends … Do you think we could have been more?”

Hermione nodded and said, “I would have liked that very much. And maybe—”

“No, Hermione,” Draco insisted, “I am not going to be second place. I am not your reserve boyfriend to wait in the wings until you discover whether there is, in fact, something you want more. Just tell me one thing. This man you think you’re in love with, is there anything that could tear you away from him?”

Hermione thought about that for a long while, but Draco didn’t move. Eventually she said,

“No, there isn’t.”

Draco smiled and said, “Then I hope to God he’s worth it, Hermione.”

_Me too._

Hermione was outside of Flourish and Blott’s at 2:45 on Christmas Eve. She knew her way to the Ancient Runes section by memory, which led to a ten-minute wait at the small blue Christmas tree. She checked her watch every thirty seconds and at 2:59 her hands started to shake. She flicked one of the ornaments on the tree, watching it turn back and forth. At 3:00 she heard someone come up the staircase.

The first thing she noticed was that unmistakable white-blond hair. By the time Draco made it up to the top, Hermione had stopped breathing. She shook her head and her mouth fell open in shock. Draco shrugged.

“I tried to tell you. Every gift since four calling birds, and you missed every single goddamn hint. The brightest witch of our age and you were so blind. Did you ever consider me a possibility?” Draco asked. He shook his head and didn’t give her time to answer. “What a stupid question, of course you didn’t. You are far too intelligent and you would have found me out years ago if you ever considered me.”

Hermione’s mouth was dry. Breath wouldn’t come and her heart had stopped beating at some point. Draco swallowed hard and asked,

“Are you disappointed?”

Disappointed? Hermione came back to herself then. She wasn’t disappointed at all. In fact, the world righted itself at that moment. She had loved Draco Malfoy for longer than she cared to admit. Hermione shook her head and said,

“No.” She took a step toward him and said, “I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly and I never thought—”

Draco kissed her. It was the softest touch of lips, an apology.

“When I saw you at the ballet I nearly fell over. I couldn’t believe my luck. You, Hermione Granger, are the best Christmas present I ever received.”

Then Hermione pulled him down into another kiss, one that was sloppy and her hands found their way to his bum, pulling him closer. Draco smiled against Hermione’s lips and she pulled back enough to say,

“Happy Christmas, Malfoy.”

He laughed and said, “Happy Christmas, Granger.”


End file.
